Band-Aid and a Shot of Whiskey
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: AU: Rick and Shane are out on patrol one night, when they spot a young man being dragged into an alley by four thugs. They jump in to help him, but in the chaos of getting his attackers cuffed and into their cruiser, the boy disappears. It doesn't sit right with either of them. But luckily, the night isn't over yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Shane hated night patrol. He had too much energy for his muscular form to contain on a good day. And on a night like this, silent as all Hell and creeping into the dangerous territory of flat-out innocuous, Shane could feel the desire for action vibrating through his veins.

Rick was half-asleep in the seat next to him, undoubtedly immersed in thoughts of Lori again. When they'd finally split, it had been a relief for the both of them. But what had thrown Rick for a loop was when the woman he'd been with for almost two decades had started hurling accusations at him. The kind that made his blood boil with anger, but also a desire he'd buried long ago.

"I know you've been fucking Shane."

Rick hadn't been. They'd never kissed, never touched in any way that wasn't explicitly friendly. But when Lori picked up on that energy between them, the tension Rick had always decidedly ignored, it left him reeling.

He went to Shane's house that night—because that was the only place he could go, the place he always went—and told him what Lori had said. Rick was ready for his best friend to laugh it off, joke with him about how their "bromance" must look from the outside. Maybe offer him a beer, and then flick on whatever game was playing that night.

Instead, when Rick told Shane what had happened, he watched embarrassment flick over his face. That same flash of guilt Rick had seen the few times he'd caught Shane skinny dipping with some of the guys they'd grown up with. Then Rick saw sadness, a sort of reluctant resignation that made his friend seem older than his years.

That's when Rick kissed him.

He could tell it took Shane by surprise, judging by his sharp intake of breath, and the way it took his lips a few seconds to respond in kind. Rick kissed Shane until every ounce of sadness and guilt had melted from his face, replaced by something like catharsis.

"You never said anything," Rick said when they finally broke away.

"Couldn't risk it," Shane responded, still not looking quite comfortable, wary of what was happening and the possibility of a trick.

"Well," Rick said, licking his lips, "It's a good thing I _can_ risk it, then."

They hadn't talked much about what happened next. Rick moved his things to Shane's house, and Shane's bedroom abruptly became _their_ bedroom. Most of the time, Shane still looked at him like he wasn't real. Usually when they were in bed together those first few weeks, touching tentatively and exploring, exploding all over each other like teenagers.

_That_ is what Rick was contemplating so deeply as they sat together in their squad car. The fact that despite the things they'd done together, the lines they'd crossed with glee and sometimes fear, there was still one thing in particular they _hadn't _tried.

Rick wasn't sure how it would work. Didn't know if Shane had tried it before, with girl or guy alike, or if he was even interested. And he was about to say something, but then Shane's hard, focused voice cut him off.

"Rick."

It was a no-bullshit tone, the kind that told Rick they were on the job. He followed Shane's gaze to the alley across the street, where four muscle-headed druggie types were dragging a flailing young man into the darkness.

Like always, they didn't need to speak before moving in tandem, vaulting out of the car and towards the fight with guns raised.

"Stop! Police!"

The men didn't stop. Two held the kid steady—Christ, he couldn't have been older than nineteen—while the other two beat him ruthlessly. Eyes clenched shut in pain fluttered open at the sound of their shouts, connected with Rick's, and then Shane's. So brilliant a blue they could knock a man on his ass. And for once, when Shane lost his temper, Rick was right there with him.

The former smacked the butt of his gun into one of the attacker's heads hard enough to drop him cold. Then, he reached out to grasp the blonde man holding the boy by one arm, ripping him away and slamming him back into the brick wall behind them. He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Rick already had one of the men down and cuffed, and was standing on his inner knee while he shoved the last of them straight into the opposite wall of the alley. There was a crack of bone that could only signify a broken nose, and Rick wasn't the least bit sorry.

But even as the bloody-faced man wailed, he also took off, and with two assailants still conscious and struggling, the cops were forced to watch him make his escape.

With a nod, Rick called in for backup while Shane threw the man he was restraining into the wall again. He shoved the guy to the ground and scraped his face roughly across the gravel—a vindictive move, but worth it. And when he looked up, he found Rick watching him with a lusty glint in his eye.

Another patrol reached them only a minute later, taking the men off their hands while Rick immediately turned to the kid they'd rushed to save. He'd wedged himself into a corner between the brick wall and a dumpster, holding a hand to a spot on his head that was oozing a steady stream of blood.

Rick got up to come towards him, and the boy immediately flinched, pushing himself farther back in a futile effort to get away. Shane put his hand on Rick's shoulder, and they had a silent conversation with their eyes. Giving his partner a nod, Rick stepped back and allowed Shane to crouch down in front of the boy, keeping himself enough to one side that the kid wouldn't feel caged in.

"Hey, we're not gonna hurt you, alright?" Shane said. "You're safe now. Everything's fine. Think you can tell us your name?"

The blue-eyed boy stared at him for a beat, then rasped, "Daryl…"

Shane smiled encouragingly, "That's good. Now Daryl—"

"Dixon," Daryl said, finishing the statement from before. "Daryl Dixon."

Shane shared a look with Rick over his shoulder. They knew that name. Everyone on the damn force did, considering the kind of trouble Merle and Will had gotten into over the years. When he looked back to Daryl, the boy's face had gone to stone.

"That's right. I'm a Dixon. So y'all can take me in, now. I know how this goes," Daryl spat.

"Why would we take you in?" Rick asked from behind them.

Daryl's faced scrunched briefly in confusion. "'Cuz—'cuz I—"

"They attacked you," Shane said in a low voice, "We were parked across the street—saw the whole thing go down. You didn't do anything wrong."

Daryl snorted, and brought his hand away from his head to wipe the blood on his pant leg. "S'what you say now."

"S'what I'll be saying on the report too," Shane insisted, "You ain't getting in any trouble for this, Daryl, I promise you that. Hell, even if you provoked them, fightin' four guys on one ain't the least bit fair. Speakin' of which—you got any idea why they jumped ya like that?"

The boy gnawed at his split lower lip. "Same reason your buddies over there ain't had their eyes off me since they showed up," Daryl said, butting his chin towards the other two officers, "I'm a Dixon. S'practically a death sentence 'round here."

"Not tonight it wasn't," Shane said. He stood up, and held out a hand to Daryl, "Alright, let's get ya cleaned up, yeah? Ambulance is waiting."

But before Daryl's gaze had softened in the slightest, there was a shout of "Rick! Shane!" from behind them as one of the muscle-heads vaulted himself off of the hood of the car and began to sprint down the street with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Shane took off after him, tackling the man before he'd made it a block. Rick was mid-way through telling off the two rookies in his most dominating voice when it occurred to him they'd left Daryl behind. He turned, and the boy was already gone.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

"I just don't like it," Shane said for the fifth time as they drove home half an hour later. They'd walked through the surrounding streets looking for Daryl after he disappeared, but with no luck.

"I know, Shane. I wanted to find him too."

"Fuck, I mean you know he ain't got no one waiting at home for him—not with his brother and dad in jail again."

"Probably not."

"If he makes it home at all," Shane continued, "And with the way that head wound was bleedin', that ain't exactly likely. Christ, we had one fucking job to do—to _protect_ him, and we couldn't even—"

"Shane," Rick cut him off.

Shane sighed, "Yeah, I know I'm ranting again, but still—"

"No. Shane. _Look_," Rick said, pointing out the window. Shane followed his gaze, and stumbling down the street, blood rolling down his face, was none other than Daryl Dixon.

"That's a fuckin' sign if I ever saw one," Shane mumbled as he pulled over the cruiser quickly and jumped on out.

"Daryl!" Shane exclaimed, cutting off the boy's path. Daryl startled noticeably and stumbled back a step, eyes going a little bit wild.

And when Rick got out of the car as well, the two of them coming in from either side, those blue eyes that had captivated both cops earlier went downright feral.

"Leave me the hell alone!" Daryl shouted, inching back, "I got a knife! I'll fuckin' scream if I have to!"

Both officers stopped on a dime and shared a look. There was hating cops on principle, and then there was plain old discomfort around the law. This was neither.

If either of them had to guess, and if Shane and Rick's training meant anything, the way Daryl was snarling right now was the base instinct of someone who'd been hurt. Badly. And not just from some undue brawl in an alley one night.

"Daryl, what do you think we're going to do to you?" Rick asked gently.

"Don't matter. 'Cuz I ain't gonna let ya!" the younger Dixon snarled, eyes darting around for an escape route.

"Hey, we're not here to hurt you," Shane drawled, taking a small step forward. When Daryl didn't immediately bolt, he counted it as a win. "We were worried about you, Daryl. You're hurt, and you just took off on us. We just want to know you're okay."

Daryl watched them through narrow, suspicious lids. "Well I am, so y'all can go now."

"You sure about that?" Rick asked him, "That cut on your head doesn't look too good…"

"Can take care of it myself," Daryl said flatly, but when he pulled his hand away again and saw the blood, Shane noticed him sway slightly.

"Daryl, a band-aid and a shot of whiskey ain't gonna fix something like that," Shane tried. "You need to see a doctor. We could take you to the—"

"No hospitals!" Daryl abruptly exclaimed, looking ready to run for it again.

"Okay, okay, no hospitals," Rick quickly agreed. "But we've got to do something. We can't just leave you like this."

"Why not?" Daryl asked, voice cracking a little. Shane thought it might be from physical exhaustion and pain. Rick suspected something deeper.

"'Cuz you don't deserve that," Shane said slowly, holding Daryl's gaze, "And we ain't the kind of men who'd just leave a guy bleeding on the street 'cuz he asked us to. Look, there has to be somethin'—right, okay, what if you came back with us? We could patch you up; see for ourselves that you're alright."

"We don't want to hurt you, Daryl," Rick added, "And we don't want to _see_ you hurt either. So we can't just leave you out here. Not after the night you just had."

Daryl worried at his lip again, but his posture relaxed incrementally. "And I can…I can leave whenever I want?" Daryl asked quietly.

Shane felt Rick stiffen in his periphery. Why the hell this kid thought they'd take him prisoner they might never know, but it certainly didn't bode well for what he'd been through in years prior.

"Of course you can," Rick replied, and Shane looked to his partner before saying, "And you can stay as long as you want, too."

The invisible wooden beam keeping Daryl's shoulders aloft seemed to deflate slightly.

"You gonna let me keep my knife?" the younger man questioned, looking the smallest bit hopeful.

"If it'll make you feel safer, than yeah," Shane agreed, "Me and Rick can even leave our guns in the car tonight. We ain't exactly supposed to…but no one 'round these parts is gonna steal a cop car anyways."

They watched Daryl scratch lightly at the back of his head. "Alright," he rasped, in a voice so quiet they almost didn't hear him. "But I ain't getting in the back of that thing."

Shane smiled broadly, and Rick was quick to say, "That's fine, Daryl. You can sit up front with Shane."

Finally, finally, they corralled Daryl into the cruiser and headed on home.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When they pulled up in front of the house Shane and Rick shared, Daryl was asleep against the window. Shane shook him gently to rouse him, and Daryl jolted violently out of his slumber, reaching for the knife that hung at his belt.

"Woah! It's okay," Shane said quickly, reeling his hand back in self-preservation.

Daryl's eyes darted about rapidly, and Shane watched him try to remember where he was, what had happened.

Rick got out of the back and opened Daryl's door.

"We're home," he said, and Shane had an inkling that Rick meant all three of them, for good.

Daryl shifted until his feet met the pavement, but the motion took time, during which Shane met the other men on the opposite side of the car. He made a show of taking his and Rick's guns and storing them in the dash, as Daryl watched. Once they were safely stowed, the boy nodded and made to get out of the car. He fell back again with a gasp.

"Shit, Daryl. You okay?" Shane questioned, dropping to a crouch beside him.

"Think…think I broke some ribs," Daryl rasped out unsteadily, as if he himself were to blame for his condition. Again, Shane and Rick both thought to their training. _I fell down some stairs. I cut myself cooking. It was my fault, Officer._

"Alright, Shane—you help him up. I'll get the door," Rick decided for them all.

And Shane was as careful as he could be, helping the younger man to his feet, and then slowly entering the house. He set Daryl down on the couch in the main room, both panting a little with the effort. Rick bustled in from their periphery, toting an intimidatingly large first aid kit.

He shoved it into Shane's hands. "Help him."

Shane nodded then sat down next to Daryl. "It's okay," Shane tried to reassure him, "I used to be a paramedic, too."

Even through his perpetual grimace, Daryl didn't look all that convinced. But Shane started small, dabbing at the cut on his head carefully, clearing away the blood and grime. He was in Daryl's personal space, chests only inches apart, but the pain the younger man was in seemed to negate any potential for discomfort.

"Ain't gonna need stitches," Shane murmured mostly to himself. "You feeling dizzy or nauseous at all? Maybe confused, having trouble concentrating?"

"Nah, none of that," Daryl replied softly. "Head hurts, but…I figure that's normal, considerin'." He was looking at Shane strangely, but a lot of the tension in his posture had melted away.

Shane placed a bandage carefully over the wound, then patted antiseptic over the smaller cuts on Daryl's face and hands.

"Should take a look at those ribs," Shane said. And Daryl tensed up enough to cause him to wheeze at the burst of pain. He and Rick watched as the boy took a deep breath to calm himself.

"No reason to," Daryl eventually muttered, "Ain't nothin' to do but rest 'em."

Shane shot Rick a confused look. "Well, I don't _have_ to look at them…if you don't want me to," Shane replied pointedly.

Daryl nodded in a curt motion, still eyeing them warily. "Oughta head home, then."

"You're kidding, right?" Shane said, just as Rick said, "Daryl, you don't have to do that."

"Y'all have done enough," Daryl insisted, squirming in an effort to gain some leverage to stand, "Saved me from getting killed. That's plenty for one night. Ain't gonna take up any more of your time."

"Daryl, stop," Rick said, in a voice with just enough edge that the boy froze to meet his gaze, "We have a spare room, already made up. Me and Shane…we're gonna be up all night worrying if we let you walk out that door right now. Get a good night's sleep. Let us see that you're looking better in the morning. And if you seem fine, and you still want to go, you can leave then."

"The door to the guest room locks," Shane added, "From the inside. If that makes any difference."

Daryl chewed on his lip uncertainly. "Don't y'all have a key?"

"Ain't that kind of door," Shane said, "No keyhole."

The younger Dixon scratched at the back of his head. "Y'all don't have to do this. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you're really not," Rick sighed, "But we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't want to. You can stay here tonight—we want you to stay." He caught Shane's eye, and smiled when his partner gave him an approving nod. Rick added, "Hell, you can stay here as long as you want."

Finally, to both officer's relief, Daryl let out a long, defeated breath, and muttered, "Alright. I'll stay. Just tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Once Rick and Shane had gotten Daryl into bed, they hadn't even backed all the way out of the room before the kid was out cold. Rick shut the door gently behind them, and led Shane by the wrist back to their own bedroom, down the hall.

"Do you think his Dad…" Rick began.

"Someone did," Shane confirmed, "You saw the way he was. Ya don't get like that from getting into fights every now and then."

"Plus, _Will Dixon_," Rick said, drawing out the word like it was a string of curses, "There ain't a guy more hated in the whole damn county. Wouldn't put it past him."

Shane sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. "I can't—that look on his face, ya know? When we pulled over to get him."

"I know," Rick said, settling down beside him and pressing their shoulders together.

"He thought we were gonna hurt him," Shane growled, "And even—fuck, even when we'd convinced him that wasn't the case, that we really did just want to help, that look was still there. Like he didn't believe it. Like he couldn't understand why we'd bother."

Rick laid his hand over Shane's. "Hitting too close to home?"

Shane winced, but allowed his partner to weave their hands together.

"My Dad wasn't _that_ bad," Shane murmured.

Rick's expression called bullshit, but instead he said, "Maybe. But think about how it would have been if he hadn't left. If you hadn't been able to come to my house, whenever things got bad."

Shane let out a shuddering lungful of air and hunched further into himself, propping his elbows on his knees and hanging his head towards the floor.

"He didn't hit me," Shane said pointedly, but his voice was small. "Never laid a hand on me, as a matter of fact."

Rick ran his palm up Shane's back, squeezed his shoulder gently. "Yeah, but he didn't need to, did he? And the way I see it, what happened to you and whatever happened to Daryl? Two sides of the same coin."

"Don't wanna think about that, man," Shane said with his eyes closed, "And we don't know what happened to him—not for sure."

"I think we do," Rick replied resolutely. "Maybe not the specifics, but…we know."

Shane scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, and then began to strip off his clothes economically. Rick followed suit, and when he got down to his boxers, he pressed into Shane and held him tightly by his waist.

Shane curled his entire body around Rick's, allowing himself to be comforted. It wasn't what he was used to, but it was something he'd learned to accept in the last few weeks. Rick wanted to be the person Shane leaned on, and despite the cocky air he so often exuded, Shane sometimes needed to do the leaning.

There was a moment from his childhood that abruptly reared its ugly head. He was nine, off from school for summer break. His Dad had him hauling brick under the noontime sun. It was the dead of August, typical sweltering Georgia heat, and his dad had announced that he was tired of having a son that sat around doing nothing all day.

He'd been outside since dawn, dragging buckets of brick from the backyard to the front while his dad sat up on the porch with a couple six packs on one side and a gun on the other. They lived pretty far off from anyone else in town. Not the poorest area, but certainly not the middle class mansion-like homes that Shane saw when he visited Rick. There was a time when they'd used this land to farm, but after his dad's accident a few years back, the soil had gone untouched. Shane's dad would sometimes tell him that one day the farm would be his. Mostly, he'd snarl that a wimpy little shit like him could never take care of a piece of land.

Shane's shirt was soaked through with sweat, heart pounding against his chest. Every time his movements faltered his father would fire a shot up into the sky. He always jumped—couldn't help it when the world was already starting to turn on its side, melt together like some abstract painting.

When the sun began to bake him from overhead, exhaustion finally hit Shane hard enough that he tread, carefully, up to the porch. His father's dark eyes followed him the entire way there.

"Dad?"

"The hell you doin' over here? Got work to do!"

Shane flinched, and tried to hide it by wiping some of the sweat off of his face.

"Can I—" his voice broke, and Shane's eyes stayed trained on the ground, "Can I get some water? I'll come right back out after, dad, I swear."

There was an elongated, gut-wrenching pause as his father leaned forward in his chair.

"You ain't done yet, kid."

"But—"

"I don't wanna hear it. How the hell am I supposed to harden you up if you can't even make it through one day's work? Now get back to it. And I don't wanna hear any more bullshit out of you."

Dejectedly, Shane forced himself to walk back over to the pile of bricks, and continue on.

When Rick arrived a few hours later, Shane's father was passed out on the porch, with his feet propped on the banister and a half-empty beer in his hand. He couldn't find Shane at first, and no one answered when Rick called out for him. So he began to circle the house, breaking into a sprint when he spotted dark hair poking up from the overgrown grass out back.

"Shane? Shane!" His friend didn't respond, and Rick fell to his knees beside him, rushing to push Shane onto his back. The area around his collar and the side of his face was red and blistered, and his body was such a searing heat, after lying out in the sun all day, that for a moment, Rick was sure he was dead. But then he pressed his ear to Shane's chest, and counted those strong, rapid heartbeats.

"It's okay," Rick told him, "You're gonna be okay." He hauled his friend through the grass and into the house, and deposited him in the only place that made sense—the bathtub. Rick made sure Shane's head was well supported before pumping up the cold water.

Shane woke up with a jolt, body going tense right up until the moment he recognized Rick beside him.

"Rick," he sighed, still seeming confused, "What happened?"

"You were outside," Rick said in a rush, "I think you passed out, Shane. You wouldn't wake up."

Shane nodded a little, trying to remember. "Oh."

"Are you gonna be okay, now?" Rick asked, wide-eyed.

Shane tried to smile reassuringly, but then the headache hit him hard, and his stomach lurched. "I—I dunno. Don't feel good, Rick."

"That's okay," Rick said, with a sort of omniscient determination only a child could have. "You're gonna be okay, Shane. Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Now, Shane buried his face in Rick's neck.

"Was damn lucky to have you," Shane murmured. "Still am."

Rick smiled, then kissed Shane gently. And even though it took a moment, it wasn't long before Shane eagerly responded. He wrapped his arms around Rick's back and his hips bucked forward involuntarily. Rick groaned when he realized they were equally hard, and took the initiative to shove Shane back onto the bed, climbing up beside him and plastering their bodies together as they kissed.

"Nearly came in my shorts watchin' you today," Rick panted in the spaces before their lips met, "Throwing that guy up against the wall. Fuckin' _owning_ him."

Shane grinned and flipped Rick onto his back, straddling his partner's body and murmuring, "That's what you want, huh? You want me to own you?"

He palmed Rick through his boxers and watched the older man arch up off the bed with a moan.

"Yes!" Rick gasped, squirming out of the thin fabric separating him from Shane, and helping his partner to do the same. "Want you, Shane. Want you to own me. Want you to _take_ me."

Shane's movements faltered, smirk falling from his face as he understood just what Rick was implying.

"You want that?" Shane whispered with eyes wide as saucers.

"I've been wanting it," Rick said lowly, "Just had to work up the guts to tell you."

Rick blushed lightly and looked out to the corner of the room, avoiding Shane's intense gaze. But the younger man wouldn't have that, taking Rick's chin in his hand and forcing those baby blues back in his direction.

"You don't have to," Shane murmured, voice deadly serious.

So Rick said it again. "I want to." He lay back on the bed and threw his arm over his face, trying to hide. "Just…never done it before. Might not be all that good at it."

"That's not possible." Shane sucked a series of marks up Rick's chest until his partner finally revealed himself. And when he did, Shane said, "I'll make it good. I'll make it so fuckin' good Rick, I promise."

Rick hummed a little, then groaned when Shane began to lick and bite at his neck. "Don't need to sell me on it, Shane. I _want _it. Now fuckin' give it to me already."

The dark-haired man chuckled and pulled back. "Reducing Rick Grimes to profanity. Now that's a feat."

Shane pulled open the drawer to the bedside table, and held Rick's gaze as he drizzled lube over his fingers. He knelt at the edge of the bed and eased Rick's legs open one-handed, before slowly slipping a single digit inside.

Rick's eyes slammed shut and he let out a little grunt, panting at the unfamiliar sensation. He was so damn tight around Shane's finger that the latter wondered, briefly, if they could make this happen at all. But then he crooked his finger, searching out that bundle of nerves that would make it all worth it, and Rick's entire body jerked hard.

"Shane!"

The shout was too loud, and they both knew it. But Daryl was passed out down the hall anyways, and they both doubted he'd come investigate any strange noises, even if they were in the form of a guttural moan.

Shane pressed in a second finger and watched Rick's eyelashes flutter. He was writhing on the bed now, helpless against the gentle movements of Shane's fingers as they brushed against that spot over and over.

"Shane, god, _Shane_," Rick moaned, trying to buck up against the other man's hand.

"I know, sweetheart. Knew you'd fuckin' love this," Shane growled. He tried for a third, and when he was knuckle-deep, Rick's eyes shot open again.

"Fuck," he groaned, and that word out of Rick's mouth made Shane's cock twitch violently. "Shane, c'mon. Want you. _Please._"

"Okay," Shane breathed as he pulled out and spread lube over his own cock. Rick arched his back and began to roll to his front, but Shane stopped him with a hand to his chest. "No. I wanna see you."

He wrapped Rick's legs around his hips, and holding the other man's gaze, slowly entered him for the first time. Shane was careful about it; rocking in and out incrementally, never too much at once and never the least bit forceful. It was several minutes before they'd finally met skin-to-skin, Rick's body a searing vice around Shane's throbbing cock, both tensed and panting.

And Shane was willing to wait just as he was. Hell, he could have stayed still all night, if Rick had asked him too. But his partner had other plans, which he made more than clear when he swirled his hips for the first time.

"Rick!" Shane gasped, fingers clenching down hard over the muscular planes of Rick's thighs. His breaths were coming out in shuddering huffs, and Rick wasn't doing much better himself. Those hips swirled again and Shane let out a filthy moan, pupils blowing wide as he watched the man below him throw his head back, sweat dripping down his brow. If he was the least bit worried about his best friend being in pain, those worries were negated when Rick bucked against him again, cock twitching and shooting pre-come over his own stomach when the Shane's length slid across his prostate just right.

"Fuck, Rick…" Shane groaned. Pale blue eyes shot open, and Shane knew there was a beg on the tip of the other man's tongue.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl woke up in a bed far too comfortable to be his own, in a room that was too well heated, and a house that was far too clean. It took him a minute to remember where he was, and even then, his abrupt struggle to sit up left him wheezing in pain. The clock read 2:42 AM, but he couldn't remember what time it had been when Shane and Rick had found him on the street, let alone when they'd escorted him back to the guest room.

What Daryl did know, or at the very least, what became abundantly clear just moments after his waking, was _what_, exactly, had awoken him.

_"Shane!"_

Shit. Daryl craned his neck and turned his ear towards the back of the house, trying to discern whether the cry had been one for help, or something else entirely. There were muffled voices from several doors down. Shuffling, some thuds. Were they fighting each other? Was it some dumbass robber breaking into a cop's house?

Daryl was damned if he knew. But he did need to be on his guard. The fight could get out of hand. The robber could come for him next. Or worse, the two could turn on him. He'd believed them when they said they wouldn't hurt him. He'd _wanted_ to believe them more than anything. But it was all too possible that it was _him_ they were fighting about right now.

They could make him leave. His ribs ached at the thought.

Or, they could come for him next.

_"Rick!"_

Daryl jumped to his feet this time, finally awake and on edge. He had to do something. So Daryl cracked open his door and crept silently down the blackened hall. There was only one door alight, all the way at the end and a third of the way open, shedding a triangle of light onto the maroon carpet.

_"Fuck, Rick…_"

Now that he was closer, that sounded…less than angry, at least. Daryl stood just outside of the doorframe, still cast in shadows, and peered inside the bedroom.

He was lucky that in that moment, Rick bucked against Shane with a particularly forceful movement. Because nothing short of the warbling moan Shane let loose could have concealed Daryl's shocked gasp from the hallway.

It was everything he'd never allowed himself to think about. Everything he'd flat out denied, scoffed at in his brother's presence and worried to conceal back when he was still under his father's hateful watch. Daryl had told himself that he could just ignore it, that it couldn't be _that_ good, anyways, and if he went about his life and focused on other things then he'd forget, somewhere down the line, that he'd ever wanted it at all.

He found himself hurting, an ache in his chest to realize that all those years of confusion had been misplaced. What he was seeing now—what Shane and Rick were doing—it didn't seem wrong at all. Nothing like the frenzied, inhuman rutting Merle had described the one time Daryl had gotten up the courage to ask. Everything about the way they moved together was slow and gentle. Loving—a concept that had never crossed Daryl's mind the times he'd thought about what two men together might look like.

But there it was. Shane was rocking into Rick slow as molasses, and looking at the man underneath him with punch-drunk, glazed-over eyes. The light-eyed cop was a picture of wanton bliss, clawing at Shane's hip to urge him closer, writhing up off the bed. And Shane kept whispering things to him, things Daryl could hear from his perch, just feet away from them. They were dirty things, loving things, and it was with a rush of heat to his cheeks that Daryl realized he was hard as a rock in the confines of his jeans.

"God, you look so good like this," Shane moaned, "Take it so good. So fuckin' good for me, Rick."

"Shane!" Rick gasped, "I can't—can't fuckin' hold out. I need—"

"Shhh," Shane soothed, leaning down to kiss Rick soundly. "I know you're close. Fuck, I am too. Feels like we're fuckin' teenagers again."

Rick groaned and swiveled up against him, trying and failing to gain some leverage.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shane saw movement from the hall. A body that couldn't help but slowly drift towards the light as it became immersed in the scene Rick and Shane created. But Shane didn't pause or falter. He kissed Rick again, slow this time. Teeth dragged down the edge of Rick's jaw to nip at his ear.

"He's watching us," Shane whispered, feeling delighted when a shiver ripped down Rick's spine.

But the older man still looked a little uncertain, purposefully keeping Shane's gaze. "We forgot to close the door," he whispered back, hardly loud enough for Shane to hear him.

"I know," Shane murmured, biting at the other side of his neck. "Can tell him to fuck off if you want," Shane thrust hard against Rick's prostate, and his partner threw his head back in a heady groan. "But I kinda like it. And I think you do too."

Rick licked his lips and panted, jaw twitching as he fought the urge to turn in Daryl's direction.

"Not yet," Shane scolded, nipping playfully at Rick's collar bone, "You'll scare him off."

He grabbed Rick by the shoulder and thrust into him more forcefully, watching Rick's cock jerk and twitch against his belly.

"Just say the word," Shane rasped, giving Rick an out, or an in.

Blue eyes locked into his. "Fuck me," Rick demanded, and Shane grinned hard.

He pounded into Rick faster, hauling his legs up higher for a better angle and gasping for breath when he saw his partner's balls pull up taught against his leaking cock.

"Fuck, Rick," Shane moaned, "You could come from this, huh?"

Rick nodded rapidly. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop Shane."

"I won't," Shane promised, pushing into Rick harder and faster, and sweating with the effort. "Wanna see you come on my cock, Rick. Want you to show me how much you love it. Show _him."_

Before the young man in the doorframe could understand just what Shane was implying, Rick was coming with a loud moan, untouched cock pulsing and shooting stripes of white all over his chest. Daryl had never seen anything like it. And just as he absently reached down to rub his hardness through his jeans, Rick's face rolled towards the door, eyes clenched shut against the onslaught of pleasure. When Rick's eyes opened again, body still quaking in bliss, they locked onto Daryl's like magnets.

Shane slammed into Rick once, twice more before releasing inside him with a resounding groan, and collapsing against Rick's sweaty chest. If only for a few seconds, Daryl remained frozen in place, trapped in Rick's gaze.

But when Shane turned towards him as well, spotting Daryl in the sliver of light, the archer was jolted from his daze. He took off like a bolt of lightning, thundering down the hallway with steps imperceptible to the human ear and crashing into the guest room in a rush.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Daryl sprinted back to the guest bedroom in a fumbling rush. Tripping through the door in a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness, he shot his arms out to stop himself from falling, and managed to knock over a lamp in the process. It fell to the floor in a shattered mess, and Daryl stumbled his way back to the bed.

He sat with his back against the wall and his eyes on the door. And even though his heart was pounding erratically and he couldn't quite steady his breathing, he was still hard as a rock.

The reflex to run and hide was mingling embarrassingly with his arousal, and Daryl's body didn't seem to know how to cope. He knew that whatever came next wouldn't be good. At best, Shane and Rick would act like they'd never seen him. He'd suffer through an awkward breakfast, then retreat back to his house and pretend none of it had ever happened.

At worst, they'd be angry. Fuck, they might be _furious_. They might forget why the hell it was they were helping him to begin with, or even decide they wanted to finish the job those thugs from earlier hadn't quite managed.

Daryl _knew_ he should run. It was his best chance. But a full minute had gone by, and he couldn't bring himself to move.

At least part of his hesitance linked back to how sincere Shane and Rick had been earlier. Daryl had experience with the kind of men who'd pretend to care then turn on him the first chance they got. But neither Rick nor Shane seemed like the type. Daryl trusted his instincts when it came to people.

But the kindness they'd shown him wasn't all of it. The main problem, as far as Daryl was willing to assess, was the raging hardness between his legs. He'd never felt desire this potent before. Not for any of the girls he went to school with, and certainly not for the string of drugged-out call girls that Merle had paraded his way.

Daryl heard soft footsteps descending from down the hall, and his breathing stuttered to a halt. Two broad forms appeared in the doorframe.

"Look, Daryl," Rick began, but stopped short when he noticed the layer of broken glass cascaded over the floor.

"Shit, are you okay?" Shane asked, rushing forward just an ounce too quickly, and making the boy flinch. Daryl could only stare at him, frowning in confusion when Shane crouched down to look him in the eye, appearing _concerned_, of all things.

"You didn't cut yourself, did you?" Shane tried again, eyes raking over his body for damage. Rick was already busying himself with cleaning up the floor.

Finally, Daryl managed to shake his head numbly. The front of his jeans was still tented. He saw the exact moment when Shane noticed.

"Daryl..."

"M'sorry," Daryl blurted out in a rush. "I didn't mean to, I swear." His cheeks were bright red, and he couldn't lift his eyes from the floor. "Don'...don't be mad," he added in a half-broken voice.

Shane's eyebrows furrowed. Daryl saw the twitch of his hand, as Shane fought the urge to reach out and comfort him. But he interpreted it as something much more foreboding, and curled back instinctively against the wall.

"Daryl, we're not mad," Shane began, but the young man was practically shaking, and the cop knew he'd need to be more convincing. "Daryl, I promise you. Rick and I aren't angry. Maybe a little embarrassed, but definitely not mad. Okay? Why do you think we'd be angry at you?"

Daryl's eyes darted between the two of them. "'Cuz I was...'cuz I saw you..." he trailed off, seeming miserable.

"Hey, that's not your fault. We forgot to close the door—that's on us," Shane soothed. "You just...seemed scared at the end there, and we wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I won't tell no one," Daryl was quick to say, "Won't say a word, I swear."

Rick swept the last of the glass shards into the bin and came to sit down next to Daryl on the bed. He and Shane left the boy an easy exit route towards the door.

"We're not worried about you telling people," Rick explained, "I suppose we ain't exactly ready for the guys on the force to know, but if they found out, it wouldn't be the end of the world. We just wanted to make sure that you understood what you saw. And that if you had any questions, you could ask us."

Daryl frowned a little and looked to Shane. "I know you didn't force him or nothin'."

Shane smiled, eyes twinkling in Rick's direction. "Really, how could you tell that?"

Daryl's cheeks flushed an even deeper crimson, blood rushing to them with such force that he was surprised there was enough left to keep his cock achingly hard. But Shane was looking at him with big, mischievous eyes. And Rick was watching him just as intensely. And with every second that ticked by, it became clearer and clearer that they weren't going to be sated until he'd answered Shane's question.

"'Cuz...'cuz he liked it..." Daryl mumbled at the floor.

Shane grinned wolfishly. "Is that so?" he teased, but his tone demanded a response. "And what makes you think that?"

Daryl's member throbbed wildly against the zipper of his jeans.

He sucked in a shuddering breath.

"Came, didn't he?" Daryl muttered, and he could practically _feel_ Rick and Shane smiling at each other, even when he refused to raise his eyes to see it. Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. There was a pause, before he haltingly whispered, "Is it always like that?"

The cops shared a look. Then Rick asked, "What do you mean, exactly?"

Daryl could have very happily crawled into a corner and died.

"When it's—when it's just the two—just—" he stuttered, screeching to a halt as his mind and his mouth came at odds.

Rick seemed to understand what he was getting at. "Well, honestly it's just about the same as being with a girl. In the sense that _how_ it is depends on _who_ you're with. You understand that, right? I mean, you're what—eighteen?"

"Twenty," Daryl rasped.

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him. "Look younger."

Daryl shrugged, and Rick continued, "Well, right. You're twenty, so a guy with looks like yours…I'm sure you've been with some girls by now. So I'm sure you know, it's all about who you're with."

The young Dixon brought his thumb to his mouth and gnawed nervously at his nail. Shane and Rick shared yet another look, noting how the boy's silence spoke volumes.

"It's okay if you don't," Shane said after a moment, treading carefully. "Don't _know_, I mean. 'Bout what Rick was saying. Ain't the same for everyone."

Daryl regarded him warily. "I ain't never—" he cut himself off again, swallowing hard. "Nothin' I done's ever been like _that_. Didn't…didn't know it could be that way."

The temperature in the room had skyrocketed, and the look Shane and Rick were sending one another could have melted the North Pole into a steaming puddle. Rick's pupils had blown wide, and when Shane licked his lips slowly, the former knew they were on the same page. They'd considered something like this only once before, with a girl in high school. Back then, Rick suspected, Shane had been more interested in the idea of being with _him_ than the girl.

But this was different. The prospect of being with someone new was exciting, being the ones to guide him and show him the way. But more than that, Rick and Shane both found themselves wanting to provide Daryl with whatever pleasure they could. Some comfort, if anything, to soothe the pains of his past. Rick hoped to God that they were making the right play here, and that what he said next wouldn't just scare the younger Dixon away.

"Do you want us to show you how it can be?" Rick asked Daryl, voice smooth and sweet like bourbon.

"Nothin' serious," Shane added, holding Daryl's gaze, "Just somethin' small. Just so you can see."

"And we'll stop if you want to," Rick continued in a rush, "Won't ever make you do somethin' you don't wanna do, Daryl. But being with someone the way me and Shane were before…s'nice. And you oughta get to see what that's like."

Daryl knew in his mind that he should have been out the fucking door by now. But neither man was pushing him for anything. They weren't trying to maneuver him, force him in any way. As far as Daryl could tell, all they were providing was an _offer_, which he was free to take or reject as he wished.

"Ya won't tell no one?" Daryl eventually rasped.

Shane shot him a gentle smile. "Of course not. We just wanna show you how good it can be…if you'll let us."

Daryl clenched his eyes shut. "What do you want from me?" he mumbled, tone rough like sandpaper.

"Nothing," Rick was quick to say, "We don't want to take anything, okay? We just want to give you something. Show you."

When the younger Dixon's bright blue eyes finally fluttered open, they locked into Rick's for the second time that night. He was surprised by how calm he felt, caught in Rick's matching sapphire gaze. Daryl gave a very slight nod. And before he could second guess himself, or even close his eyes, Rick's lips were on his.

It was nothing like the rough, rushed experience Daryl had expected. Rick's lips were powder soft, moving against his gentle and slow, even though Daryl had yet to respond. But then a tongue swept across his lower lip. Daryl shuddered hard and let out a low groan.

With his hands still lying idly at his sides, Daryl began to respond to Rick in kind, moving his mouth hesitantly against the curly-haired cop's and hoping to God that he wasn't fucking anything up too badly. He felt Shane settle in behind him, taking the space between his back and the wall. The feeling of being pressed between the two men wasn't nearly as stifling as Daryl had anticipated. If anything, he felt secure. Warm in a way that spread outward from his chest, and eager for more.

"That's it, Daryl," Shane murmured against the back of Daryl's ear. It made the younger boy shiver violently. "Just like that. So good for us."

Daryl's cock was painfully hard now, and leaking steadily against the thick fabric imprisoning it. He didn't need to look down to know there was a dark spot forming at his crotch.

Rick slowly wound down the kiss. And as soon as Daryl's eyes flicked open, one of Shane's large hands was turning his chin gently towards him. The younger man found himself closing his eyes again, and allowing Shane's mouth to connect with his.

It surprised him, but probably shouldn't have, that Shane kissed nothing like Rick. He was still being tender, but there was an edge to it, as if he were purposefully holding himself back. It didn't take long before Shane was practically devouring him, tongue sweeping through his mouth with a heat that Daryl had never experienced before. He whimpered against Shane's lips and blushed all the way down to his toes, embarrassed to hear himself make such a noise.

When Shane broke away, Rick was on him again in an instant. Daryl was taken aback, but not perturbed, when he felt the cops slowly shifting him until he was situated across Rick's lap. Shane's mouth latched onto his neck from behind, nibbling and sucking until Daryl could barely breathe.

One of Rick's knees slipped between Daryl's legs. And when Daryl ground down against it for the first time, accidentally as it was, he moaned filthily into Rick's mouth.

Shane let out an approving groan in turn, and let his hands roam feather-light down Daryl's torso. They settled over Daryl's hips, urging him to move against Rick in a way that was only natural.

Rick's knee shifted almost imperceptibly, providing just the right amount of friction against Daryl's prominent bulge.

"S-_stop_," Daryl gasped, breaking away from Rick abruptly. Shane and Rick's movements didn't quite cease entirely, but they did slow.

"We'll stop, if that's what you really want," Rick said earnestly.

"But I don't think you want that, Daryl," Shane growled against the back of his neck.

"This is for you, sweetheart," Rick murmured. Daryl flushed at the pet name. "We just want you to see how good it can be. You don't have to hold back."

"You want to come for us, don't you?" Shane rumbled, nipping at Daryl's earlobe. Daryl whined softly and Shane chuckled against his shoulder. "Yeah, look at ya. You wanna come just as badly as we wanna see it. It's alright, Daryl. Let us take care of you."

Daryl would have never thought that words alone could have this much of an effect on him. Just the sight of Rick and Shane earlier had had him leaking like a faucet. But _now_, with both men touching him so gently, whispering words he never would have thought he needed to hear, Daryl was pretty much hair-trigger.

The younger man didn't think he could form syllables at the moment, let alone sentences. So instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Rick's. The cop smiled as he resumed exploring Daryl's mouth with his tongue.

Daryl's middle twinged with any particularly forceful movement. But Shane seemed to notice, and soon the dark-haired cop was helping him to move against Rick. Shane wove his lower half with Rick's, until Daryl was firmly situated across both sets of legs. With hands still at Daryl's hips, he used the leverage of his position to help the boy rut into Rick's lap. And even though Daryl was rubbing his sheathed erection against the older man's leg like a bitch in heat, he couldn't help but pant and whimper.

Shane and Rick shared a heated look over Daryl's shoulder. And suddenly, Rick's hand dropped to rub powerfully against Daryl's denim-clad cock, while Shane bit down at the cord of his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Daryl's hands shot up to the cop's shoulders, scrambling for purchase.

His eyes slammed closed. "Fuck. Fuck, _ahh_!"

With a strangled moan, Daryl came against Rick's hand, rocking himself down and trembling with every wave of pleasure that crashed over him.

Even once Daryl had slumped against them, shuddering from overstimulation, the cops never ceased their slow movements.

It wasn't until Daryl let out a too-high whimper of _please, please_, that the men shifted instead to cradle the younger man between them, and let him come down from his high.

"So good," Daryl kept hearing. He wasn't sure from whom. "So good for us, Daryl. Such a good boy."

It was a long while, how long Daryl couldn't be sure, before Rick was shifting him off of his lap and onto Shane's. Daryl was surprised by how hard the panic hit him then.

But hell, Shane must have _felt_ the way his heart began to thunder at his chest, because he murmured low and easy in Daryl's ear, "Shh. S'alright. Everything's alright."

Daryl believed him. He believed him so hard and so thoroughly that he managed to relax back into Shane's grip in Rick's absence. Of course, Rick wasn't gone for long. He returned only minutes later with a pair of pajama pants in hand, and what looked like a clean pair of boxers. Daryl flushed anew.

Rick got down on his knees in front of Daryl and reached for the young man's zipper.

"Can do it myself," Daryl rasped, squirming a little in Shane's arms.

"We know you can," Rick said.

"Just let us take care of you," Shane murmured.

Daryl couldn't say no. His body felt boneless as it was, and the day had left him so emotionally drained that he didn't want to bother with a fight. Daryl kept his eyes closed as Rick slowly rid the lower half of his body of clothing. He trembled when Rick cleaned him off, only to be shushed gently by the man still holding him to his chest.

Once he was finally dressed, Rick and Shane worked together to pull him to his feet.

They were guiding him towards the door when Daryl dug his heels in. "What…?"

"I think Rick and I would both feel better if you stayed with us tonight," Shane explained.

When Daryl looked uncertain, Rick added, "Just try. If you don't like it, you can go sleep in the guest room. But we need to know you're okay. And…we want you with us."

Daryl seemed to struggle with that for a moment. "You don't want me to leave?" he eventually asked quietly.

"No, Daryl, we want you to _stay_," Shane corrected him. "And a lot longer than just tonight. You've got a place here as long as you want one."

"But you don't even know me," Daryl whispered.

"We know enough," Rick told him gently, placing a hand carefully and predictably on the younger man's shoulder, "We know who you are. Though, we'd like to find out more."

"Your buddies at the station ain't gonna like it," Daryl insisted, "Lettin' some Dixon fuck-up stay with y'all."

"Then it's a good thing we don't give a fuck what they think," Shane replied simply.

The younger man wrapped his arms around himself, still hesitating. "Think I'd rather stay in here, tonight," he said finally.

The cops seemed disappointed, but Daryl didn't let that sway him.

"If you're sure that's what you want," Rick conceded.

"And you know you can come get us if you need somethin'," Shane added.

Daryl nodded his understanding. He could tell that both men were fighting the instinct to reach out to him again, show him some comfort the same way they comforted each other. But the arms crossed over his chest presented a firm message.

"G'night," Rick said haltingly, moving backwards to the door.

Daryl nodded again.

Shane shot him a forlorn stare. "G'night, Daryl." He hesitated a moment longer, watching the younger man fixedly. But when Daryl's expression stayed indifferent as ever, Shane let out a long sigh, and followed Rick back to their bedroom. From behind them, the cops heard the door shut. Both of them flinched at the telltale click of the lock coming into place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next morning, it took hours for Daryl to get up the courage to slink his way out of the guest room. He flicked his way through every book on the shelf beside his bed, carded through a half dozen magazines, and even examined the window for several minutes, trying to determine if he could shimmy his way out and make a break for it.

He passed a good deal of his time in the shower, letting the room fill up with steam while he tried to make sense of everything that had happened last night. The truth was, Daryl couldn't decide how he felt. Even though he wasn't regretting it, the prospect of facing Rick and Shane now was daunting at best.

Daryl realized that what had happened the night before was probably just a matter of feeling sorry for him. He knew what the word _Dixon_ meant to people in this town, especially cops. By and large, his last name invited either anger or pity, and last night was no exception.

Still, the memory of Rick and Shane holding him, touching him, kissing him... _fuck_, he'd never be able to shake it. He could still feel their hands on him, in the best possible way. Pumping up the cold water, it took several minutes under the icy spray before Daryl could get a hold of himself.

And as it turned out, Daryl's lengthy shower was the only thing keeping Rick and Shane from knocking down the guest room door that very morning, when 10 AM rolled around and the younger man still hadn't come out. When they heard the telltale creak of pipes, and the slosh of water on tile, they at least knew that Daryl was alive.

The sweet smells of bacon frying and coffee brewing finally pushed Daryl to shuffle his way out of the guest room and down the hallway. Daryl hesitated in the kitchen doorway and watched Shane and Rick where they sat at the table.

The pair were sitting in companionable silence, drinking their coffee and sharing the Sunday paper. Shane was reading the Sports section, and Rick was paging through Arts and Entertainment. Every other minute, they'd both sip from their mugs in perfect sync. And Daryl immediately felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Like the past 24 hours had been one long intrusion into a life they both seemed very happy leading alone.

The younger man cleared his throat awkwardly, jumping a little himself when both Rick and Shane started and turned to look at him.

"You're up!" Rick immediately exclaimed, smiling, "Come, sit. Have some breakfast."

Daryl hovered on the edge of the kitchen tile for a beat too long. "Should probably get going," he muttered.

"Daryl," Shane said, in a much firmer tone than Rick had managed, "There's no chance we're letting you walk out of this house hungry. So come. Sit."

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Daryl dragged his feet over to the table and sat opposite the two men, bristling a little when Rick was immediately on his feet, preparing a plate of food for him and questioning whether he liked coffee, waffles, eggs.

"M'fine," Daryl muttered for the billionth time, before beginning to pick at the food in front of him under Shane and Rick's watchful eyes. But he didn't resign himself to picking for long. As soon as the first warm, sizzling mouthful hit his tongue, Daryl was shoveling the food into his mouth like it was his last meal.

He blushed hard when Rick was immediately on his feet and filling his plate up with food again, and tried his best to eat slower this time, still refusing to look up from the table.

"How are you feeling?" Rick asked the younger Dixon slowly.

"Fine," Daryl mumbled in between mouths of food.

"Head still hurting?" Shane pressed, catching those baby blue eyes with a look that Daryl knew meant he had to be honest.

"A little," he said finally, "Not as bad as yesterday."

"Gonna wanna look you over after we're done eating," Shane said.

Daryl frowned at him. "Don't gotta," he said, "Made it through the night, didn't I?"

Shane scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah. But just...lemme check you over one more time, alright? Need to know you're okay."

The sincerity of his words left Daryl speechless, briefly.

He set his fork down on the side of his plate. "Let's get it over with, then," Daryl muttered, figuring that once Shane was sure that he wouldn't be fainting on the way home, he'd finally usher the younger man out the door.

Shooting him a slightly confused look, Shane led Daryl back to the couch in the living room while Rick busied himself with cleaning up breakfast.

They sat down on the couch facing each other, next to the First Aid kid from the night before.

"Gonna check over your heard first, okay?" Shane said, holding Daryl's gaze. The blue-eyed boy nodded. And though he flinched when Shane's hands came up to gently turn his jaw, Daryl stopped himself from jerking away entirely.

Fingers ghosted over Daryl's temples, across his forehead and down either side of his neck. The contact, as fleeting as it was, had Daryl shivering noticeably. His eyes darted up to Shane's face, but he couldn't decide if the dark-haired man was biting back a frown or a smile.

"You don't like it when I touch you?" Shane asked, voice carefully neutral.

Daryl's cheeks flared searing red. "I…" he trailed off, not so sure even in his own mind what the right answer was. The truth was, he did like it. His body did, at least, but his brain hadn't quite caught up.

"I don't…" Daryl began, painfully uncertain, "don't _hate_ it."

Shane smiled softly at him. "I'll keep it in mind. Now, I wanna make sure those cracked ribs of yours ain't gonna turn to something more serious. But to do that, I've gotta have a proper look at them. I know last night you didn't want to take the shirt off, but what if you just pull it up? Won't hardly touch you. Just enough to be sure you ain't in any danger."

Daryl considered his words for a long moment, then nodded, leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling his shirt up to bunch at his chest.

True to his word, Shane's fingers grazed over his stomach as gentle as a feather. But even touches so fleeting had Daryl trembling, both from how good it felt, and from the realization that Shane was the first to touch Daryl's naked torso in years.

"That's it," Shane said, pulling Daryl's shirt back down for him. "All done. Now how about some meds for the pain, huh?"

Daryl struggled to sit up again, feeling that familiar twinge in his middle.

"Don't want 'em," he replied, "M'fine."

"You're not," Shane disagreed, "It's hurting you just to keep yourself sitting up straight. You think I can't tell?"

He was getting pushy, but Daryl figured for the right reasons. Still, he mumbled, "I can take the pain. S'better than feeling fuzzy. Don't like being out of it like that."

Shane was silent for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth three times successively before saying, "You know you're safe here, right? You don't have to be...on guard."

But Daryl did. He really, really did. "Ain't about that. Would be the same answer no matter where I was."

Shane nodded thoughtfully. "What if there was another way I could help? With the headache, at least. No pills."

"What'd ya have in mind?" Daryl asked.

Shane's eyes darted to his own lap a little sheepishly. "A massage?" When he saw Daryl's eyes narrow in suspicion he continued, "Now hear me out. You don't want to take any pills, okay, I get that. But you're in a hell of a lot of pain and you don't deserve to be. There's a type of massage for people with head trauma- helps get rid of the pressure. The pain. And hell, if it doesn't work, it ain't like it'll do any harm."

Daryl bit hard at his lip, before mumbling, "Can't have you behind me."

Shane hesitated before answering, not sure if this was the right route. "But, last night…"

"Was different," Daryl supplied.

"What if I didn't need to be behind you?" Shane tried."Could do it with you facing me. Might be a little tricky at first, but I'd figure it out."

_This is a trap_, Daryl's brain screamed at him. But since the rest of his body was still hollering in pain, he knew he wouldn't take much convincing.

"Alright," Daryl said, "How…?"

Shane lay back on the couch until his head hit the armrest. "C'mere," he urged, motioning towards his chest.

Daryl frowned at him, so Shane added, "It'll put too much strain on your ribs if you keep sitting up."

With a defeated sigh, Daryl crawled over towards Shane. And when keeping himself suspended over the other man's body proved too painful to bear, he carefully lowered himself down, his chest to Shane's stomach.

Shane was still sitting most of the way up, and Daryl had to admit, laying like this was a hell of a lot less painful than he'd figured. But then Shane's hands settled down onto Daryl's shoulders, and the younger man seized up tight enough for every nerve in his body to scream in protest.

"Hey. What…?" Shane immediately asked him, worried.

"D-don't touch my back," Daryl stuttered out in a rush.

"Alright," Shane said, moving his hands up to the back of Daryl's neck and holding them there. "I won't. Promise."

The brown-eyed man was already feeling a little guilty. He probably could have managed just as well if Daryl had been laying on his back. Or if he'd let him stretch out face down across the couch. But Shane had allowed himself this indulgence, and he'd be damned if it hadn't already paid off tenfold.

Shane's hands began to travel in tight, concentric circles. His fingers pressed gently at Daryl's temples, then travelled down his spine and rubbed methodically at his tired shoulders. The younger Dixon hadn't had many positive physical experiences he could remember. There was a ghost of a recollection of his mother stroking his hair when he was very young, soothing him through a first haircut. And then there was that exuberant hug for Merle, the first time his big brother had come back for a stint in juvie, and long before Daryl had understood that it would soon be a pattern.

Still, the best memory by far was so deeply entangled with one of his worst that he usually avoided thinking about it at all. The way those sets of hands had felt, touching him gently, making him feel warm all over, before they'd contorted into fists. That high of being made to feel _good_, wanted, adored- immediately negated by a click of silver handcuffs and a harsh blow to the back of his head.

The thought of it had Daryl's body tensing up against his will. But Shane seemed entirely unperturbed. He cooed to Daryl in a murmur that was low, and deep, and largely incoherent. And even though Daryl still wanted to flee, still had that nagging feeling of _it'satrap_ and _wrongwrongwrong_ repeating itself in the back of his mind, Shane's hands were too good to combat for long.

His eyes closed. His body melted into Shane's. And Daryl was fast asleep, sprawled across the older man's chest, before he ever knew it was happening.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane had to fight the urge to jump when sometime later, two hands settled on his shoulders from behind. But even though there was an initial shock of being jerked awake, Shane knew those hands. He knew them intrinsically. And while if anyone else had approached him that way, Shane might have hit them, Rick was an exception. He always had been.

"You knock him out?" Rick teased, settling down on the other side of Shane and letting the brown-haired man lean into his side.

Shane hummed low and deep, tilting his head up towards Rick's face with his eyes closed. With Daryl on one side, and RIck on the other, Shane couldn't have been more content. The realization was startling, considering just how long it typically took him to trust people. But it was true nonetheless, and Shane couldn't help but think that if having Daryl here felt this _right,_ then that had to mean something.

"You want to keep him," Rick murmured. And even though he sounded more accepting than angry, Shane went stock still beside him.

"I…" _I do, fuck, I really do. But even if I want him, I need you._ "I want whatever you want," Shane decided on, "Waited too long for this to give it up easy. Losing you… it'd _kill_ me, Rick. I can't-"

"Hey," Rick said sharply, demanding his attention. He placed his hand on Shane's cheek and held his gaze. "You're not going to lose me. Never. And...I want to keep him, too."

Shane's body went slack, relief pulling his eyes slowly shut.

"Thank fuck," Shane mumbled, "He needs someone like you."

"Why's that?" Rick questioned.

"You put me back together," Shane said, "Kept me whole, even back when there were parts of me I thought needed killing. Back when I figured it wouldn't matter much if one day I was just...gone. And Daryl needs that. Needs someone to be kind to him, and show him that where he came from don't matter."

"You've been doing a good job so far," Rick replied.

"He's only been here one night," Shane scoffed, "I'll fuck it up sooner or later. It'll be you he needs, then."

"You're not going to fuck anything up," Rick soothed, "You think he would have fallen asleep on top of just anyone? Maybe he doesn't understand why just yet, but you two share something. He trusts you."

"Trusts you too," Shane said. "Wouldn't have done shit last night otherwise."

"I don't know," Rick murmured with a smile, "Maybe you're just irresistible. Got me into bed, after all."

Shane let out a too-loud chuckle, smiling up at the man he'd loved since he was six. The movement jostled Daryl awake. As soon as he recognized that he was lying on something _warm _and _breathing_, Daryl vaulted himself away on instinct. His broken ribs screamed in protest, and he immediately curled in on himself, trying to breathe through the pain.

"Shit, Daryl, do you gotta hurt yourself even worse?" Shane scolded, sitting up himself and placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Sorry," Daryl gasped out. Then, a little steadier now that the initial flare of pain had subsided, "Sorry, for fallin' asleep. Didn't mean to."

"Did it seem like I minded?" Shane replied, smiling, though Daryl couldn't figure out why.

Daryl rubbed at his eyes, ignoring the dull throb in his head that had accompanied his sudden move upright. "Should get going," he mumbled, for perhaps the tenth time since he'd arrived the night before.

"No," Rick disagreed, as gently as he could, "You should _stay_."

Daryl looked to Rick, then to Shane, trying to understand. "Why?"

"Did you like what we did last night?" Shane asked.

Daryl blushed wildly. "Didn't stop ya," he muttered, rather than telling the truth.

"That's not what he asked," Rick countered. "Did you _like_ it?"

"Yes!" Daryl bit out, angry now. "But I know why ya did it. And-"

"Oh yeah? Why then?" Rick asked, cutting him off.

"'Cuz…" Daryl frowned at the floor, "_Fuck_, for the same goddamn reason anyone else ever bothers with me. Fuckin' _pity._ And I don't need that. I ain't some mangy mutt you can pick up off the street and fuckin' domesticate. Ya done enough."

"Daryl," Shane barked, stopping the younger man before he could launch himself up off the couch. "Daryl, last night happened because me and Rick wanted it to happen. We wanted _you._ Still do."

The younger Dixon fell back into the opposite corner of the couch, staring at the two of them like they were speaking another language.

"What…" he laughed, a little breathlessly, a little manic, and scrubbed a hand over his face. "What does that even mean?"

Shane got up and sat on the edge of the couch, caging him in without a second thought. Rick moved closer, settled his hand down on Daryl's knee. And Shane's hand was creeping up his arm, voice licking at the crest of his ear. It was all too much. Too fucking much, but Daryl knew he wouldn't be able to walk away.

"It means we want you to stay," Shane told him lowly, "It means you're always going to have a place to go. Here. With us."

Daryl shook his head resolutely. "I can't. I'll fuck things up between you. I'm no good-"

"Does it look like things are fucked up between us?" Rick cut him off again, eyes glittering with something Daryl couldn't identify.

"I'd say they're better than ever," Shane agreed, "And we could teach you things, Daryl. Could show you how good it can be. Or...or we don't gotta teach you nothin' at all. Take last night as a one-time thing. But it doesn't matter to us, alright? Whatever you decide, we still want you here."

Daryl appraised them slowly. "What we did last night- you both wanna do that again?"

"Yes," Rick immediately breathed, stroking over the inside of Daryl's thigh now that he was sure they'd already won. "But maybe somethin' a little different, too. If you want that."

Daryl licked his lips. Licked then slow and purposeful, and he couldn't have been sending a clearer message if he'd tried. He turned his head to the side, and Shane's lips were on his. Tasting him, owning him, tongue thrusting into his mouth in a way that was downright sinful.

Then, Rick was crawling up his body too, somehow managing to suspend all his weight above Daryl's bruised form. Rick's lips met his at the same time Shane's mouth descended to his neck. When two hands dragged their way down his chest, two hands that couldn't possibly belong to the same person, Daryl couldn't help but let out a low groan.

"That's it, sweetheart," Rick murmured when they broke apart. He closed his hand around Daryl's cock through his sweatpants, and the younger man bucked his hips hard enough that it hurt.

"Fuck," Daryl gasped, and then when Rick shucked up his shirt just high enough to suck at his exposed hip, "Oh, fuck. _God_."

Rick slipped two fingers under the waistband of Daryl's sweatpants and tugged, and the boy gasped, immediately slapping his hands over Rick's to stop him.

"M'not. M'not-" _Because how the hell else was he supposed to tell them that he was bare under those sweatpants._

"I know you're not," Rick drawled, "That's kind of the point."

"Think you'd be up for that 'somethin' different' we mentioned?" Shane asked.

Daryl swallowed thickly. He nodded, and it felt like catharsis.

"Don't be nervous," Rick said as he exposed Daryl to their hungry eyes. "You tell us to stop, we stop."

He settled down onto his knees between Daryl's splayed legs, and wrapped a hand around the boy's twitching cock. The archer sucked in a quick breath through his teeth.

"Same goes for harder. Faster," Shane purred, moving behind Rick on the floor and keeping one hand on Daryl's knee as he sucked and licked at the older man's neck. "Or just _more._"

The younger Dixon whimpered quietly, a noise so fragile he'd never admit to it, and watched as Shane slowly bent Rick forwards.

"You ever thought about this, Daryl?" Shane asked him, "Know y'ain't done it. But maybe ya thought about it, just once, before last night?"

Daryl shook his head quickly, pumping his hips up into Rick's fist like he was born to do it.

"Wasn't allowed," Daryl grunted softly. His mouth fell open as he watched Shane slick up a finger and slip it into Rick's willing form.

Daryl's face had fallen into a frown before he had the will to stop it. He caught Rick's eye, watched as the man panted against his thigh, stroked him faster and faster.

"It don't hurt?" Daryl asked him softly.

"No," Rick gasped, pressing back against Shane's hand, "Feels good." The brown-haired man added a second finger and Rick groaned out his pleasure against Daryl's skin. "Why would you think it'd hurt?" Rick questioned suddenly.

Daryl blushed, and his eyes darted off to the side. "Just seems like it would."

Before Rick could conceptualize what Daryl might be insinuating, Shane shoved a third finger inside him, and pleasure flooded his system.

"Fuck, Shane _please_," Rick moaned. "M'ready, m'ready c'mon."

And Shane could never deny the other man with him sounding so fucking _sultry-sweet _sinfully bad. As Daryl watched them with wide eyes, Shane sank slowly inside. He held Rick's hips tight, but Daryl's gaze even tighter.

"Jesus," Rick breathed when Shane hit home. He rested his face against Daryl's leg now, caught up in his own pleasure.

"Nah, just Shane," his partner chuckled, before grabbing the back of Rick's neck with enough force that his intentions couldn't be mistaken. "C'mon, Rick. You're so close already. Show him what he's been missing all these years."

With one look up towards Daryl's face for permission, Rick leaned down slow as molasses and took the younger man's cock in his mouth for the first time.

"Fuck!" Daryl cried out, arching up gracefully. One of his hands flew up to his mouth, trying to stifle the noise. But it fell back to his lap when Shane shot him a stern look.

"Don't you dare," Shane grunted, slowly drawing in and out of Rick's body, "We want to hear you."

They built up a slow rhythm together. Shane would slam his hips forward into Rick, fucking right up against his prostate in a way he knew the man would love. And Shane's movement would propel Rick forwards, sending his mouth sliding down Daryl's length as he moaned around the thick flesh in his mouth. The vibrations, combined with the slick, wet heat of Rick's writhing tongue would get Daryl whimpering too, hips rolling to meet RIck's thrusts on instinct.

It was a fucking sight to behold, and Shane couldn't have been any happier.

"Put your hands in his hair," Shane instructed over Rick's body, "Not too hard. Just enough to show him you like it."

Daryl did as Shane said, sliding one hand into Rick's curly locks while the other settled on the blue-eyed cop's shoulder.

"You wanna come in his mouth, Daryl?" Shane asked breathlessly, "He wants you to. Look at the way he's gagging on your cock, happy as a kid in a candy store. He wants to make you come, Daryl. You gonna give him what he wants?"

"Yes," Daryl moaned with his head thrown back, fingers tightening in Rick's hair. "Fuck, m'close…"

Shane chose that moment to reach underneath Rick's body and twist his palm rapidly over the head of the older man's leaking cock.

Rick moaned loud and long enough to be heard several counties over. And the intense vibrations, accidental as they were, shoved Daryl forcefully over the edge.

"Fuck. _Fuck!_" Daryl moaned as he poured himself down Rick's eager throat. His grip on Rick's head went tight as a vice, and his hips juddered upwards, milking out his orgasm for all it was worth.

The sight of it was too much for Shane, who followed soon after, slapping his hips into Rick's until he was utterly spent. Afterwards, he pulled out slowly, fully aware that Rick still needed some relief.

"C'mere," Shane murmured, motioning for Daryl to kneel beside him.

A little hesitantly, Daryl did as he asked, taking his place behind Rick's prone body.

"You wanna make him come?" Shane drawled. He hadn't forgotten Daryl's reaction earlier, and now was as good a time as any to prove that anal was nothing to be afraid of.

Daryl nodded silently, and looked to Shane for direction.

"You won't hurt him," Shane reminded him gently, leading Daryl's hands down where Rick needed it. He pressed one of his fingers in alongside Daryl's, and helped the younger man to locate Rick's prostate, massaging it slowly. Rick moaned and shoved himself backwards. "See? It feels good. He wants more."

With Daryl looking far less concerned than earlier, Shane let the boy take over, and instead moved to Rick's side. He rubbed slow circles over his partner's shoulders.

Daryl surprised both cops by adding a second finger unprompted, pupils blown wide when Rick moaned out his name loudly.

"Gonna have to do it harder if you want him to come like that," Shane advised, smirking a little.

Daryl nodded with a look of concentration on his face and fucked his fingers into Rick's body more forcefully.

"Oh, god," Rick sobbed, half incoherent. "Fuck, please. _Please._"

And Daryl found himself thinking that Rick shouldn't have to beg. Not for this. So he reached around the blue-eyed man's body and took his leaking cock in hand, stroking him with the same firm, hard rhythm.

"G'wan, now," Daryl found himself murmuring. And when Rick released onto his hand and the floor with a protracted moan, back arching gracefully, "Yeah. Yeah, that's it. C'mon."

Hearing Daryl talk like that had Shane's cock twitching in a valiant effort to rejoin the party. But what was more interesting was that the younger Dixon didn't even seem to realize that he was speaking.

Rick rolled into a sitting position, still shuddering, and needily pulled Daryl forward into a searing kiss.

"Thank you," he breathed when they broke for air, "Jesus, that was…"

Daryl blushed a little, even less sure of himself now that the main event had come to a close.

"You know what I could really use?" Shane said, looking between the two of them.

"A smoke?" Rick teased.

"Nah," Shane sighed, "A nap." He stood up and pulled Rick along with him. Then, he held out a hand to Daryl.

"You coming?"

The air stood still as Daryl stared up at Rick and Shane, his post-orgasm haze slowly slipping away. He could say no. He could leave, now, and never come back. Daryl knew that the cops would let him, that they didn't want to hurt him in any way. He could head back to his lonely shack of a house, kept company only by the shitty memories that had imprisoned him there for years.

Or, he could stay.

"Yeah," Daryl said at long last. The pause had been a few seconds too long, but his answer put smiles on both men's faces. "Yeah, sounds good."

He took Shane's hand.


End file.
